


The Edge

by nandonman



Series: The Horror Of Our Love [2]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood, Cannibalism sort of, Half-Wendigo Josh Washington, M/M, Read at Your Own Risk, Washingroe, gets a lil funny in the end, josh is hungery, mike's a bit of a masochist, rami malek cameo see if u can spot it lmao, set in the same universe as Worth It, vore but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24541141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandonman/pseuds/nandonman
Summary: Weird shit
Relationships: Mike Munroe/Josh Washington
Series: The Horror Of Our Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773892
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	The Edge

Josh Washington is a paradox. Six hours ago, he refused to eat the dinner offered to him. He often did. And now it's half past midnight, and he's _starving._

This wasn't exactly uncommon for Josh. Ever since he'd gotten recused from the mines, he'd been on a strict vegetarian diet. But that wasn't even the issue--the issue was that Josh _hated_ the concept of eating. It was something that haunted him, lurking in the back of his mind. Not always hunger, but always guilt.

That's why he's lying awake in bed, listening to the TV play reruns of some sitcom he'd gotten hooked on in the past few days. Thank God Mike had him staying in the media room. He knew if it wasn't for that TV, he would never be able to sleep.

One of the characters says something, and Josh forgets to laugh.

He liked Kenny. Reminds him of himself.

_He's a gay disaster, like me. But he can talk. And he isn't a fucking cannibal._

Josh means it as a joke, but the thought serves as just another push on his makeshift dam, the barrier between him and his guilt.

_A cannibal._

Like his sister. Like those miners, according to Mike.

That's what he is, isn't it? And he can't even fight it. He's tried so hard, every night, every hour to repress those memories. For some of them, it's easy. His brain does the job for him. But others . . .

His stomach growls as the image of Chris's headless body flashes in his mind, and immediately a sense of dread swallows him whole. He flushes, sinking into the sheets Mike had so caringly--so ignorantly--given him. He wants them to take him, to pull him out of this horrible feeling inside. The hate he has for himself, the disgust.

And the urge.

Josh clutches onto the sheet, hiding his face in the fabric. But then his world is enveloped in the smell of Michael. Strong. Kind. Intelligent and driven. The man who had cared for him these past couple of weeks, without expecting any kind of reward, knowing fully well the risks . . .

Josh takes a deep breath and focuses on the sensation of cloth against his skin. The fan is going, gently tossing his curls about his forehead. Mike is in the next room, keeping him safe. Looking out for him.

But he has no idea that Josh has been staying up all night, fighting himself. He has no idea. He's probably asleep right now. Unaware. Defenseless.

Suddenly, Josh's eyes fly open and he inhales deeply. Everything becomes too much--the smell of the sheets, the bed beneath him, the sound of Kenny's horrible ass first date. The fan above him serves only to waft the smell of Mike back to him, and his stomach growls again.

_Shit._

**_Fuck._ **

Josh tries to fight it. God, he tries.

But in the end, there's nothing he can do to stop himself from tossing off his bed sheets and making his way to the bedroom door.

His hand wraps around the handle, and he leans his head back, staring desperately at the ceiling.

_Please. Please stop me._

But nobody does.

By the time Josh is at Mike's door, his stomach is practically pulling him towards it. He digs his nails into his hand, tries to tell himself **he doesn't have to do this.** But he knows, deep down, there's no use fighting it.

What could go wrong? Either the craving will finally be satisfied, will finally leave him alone--or Mike kicks him out. What he should have done a long time ago.

The door creaks open, and while it swings into the darkness of Mike's room, Josh's heart rate rises. He's sweating. He's scared.

Josh makes it to the edge of Mike's bed, and he feels sick inside. But the heat in his stomach is consuming him, pulling at him in ways so familiar to him. The mines. Chris. Emily. A man he'd never met. And yet also . . .

Movie nights. The way Mike would stretch, the muscles of his arms flexing without him meaning for them to. The way he'd smile at Josh, as if Josh wasn't mute. As if he wasn't scarred, and guilty, and filthy. As if he was worth something to Mike.

Josh barely registered the tears building in his eyes, too distracted by the sight of Mike, lying in bed, his back turned to Josh. His _bare_ back.

Vaguely, as if his body was far, far away, Josh felt his tongue dart across his lips. He felt his hand reach out, moving toward the exposed skin of his friend, his crush, his world.

And then everything came rushing back down.

All at once, the air became tight, his blood began pumping in his ears, filling him with adrenaline, with the _need._

There's no stopping this.

Somewhere in the night, Mike cries out in shock as teeth sink into his shoulder. Josh's heart is hammering in his chest as he feels blood meet his lips.

"Holy fucking shit--what the hell!??"

Josh grabs Mike and pushes him down into his bed, leaning down--searching for the right spot.

Mike's hands fly to Josh's arms, but Josh's small stature is enhanced. He can feel it inside of him. The Wendigo.

"JOSH GET OFF OF ME--"

Mike's shout is turned to a cry of pain as Josh attacks his stomach, teeth piercing his flesh, nails digging into Mike's shoulders. He moves to straddle him, and the world becomes dark.

His vision becomes covered with red. Memories come rushing back to him, filling him with strength.

But he makes a mistake, as one of his hands moves to claw at the wound on Mike's stomach, squeezing to get his fill of blood.

Mike takes the opportunity to wrench Josh's other hand off his shoulder, and he kicks him--hard.

Josh hears himself snarl-- _what the fuck--_ and then Mike is flipping them around, pinning Josh down, his hands bruising and yet shaking.

Mike is out of breath, and Josh is thrashing, fighting him.

_No. Don't fight him. Trust him. Trust Mike. Jesus Josh, just let it go!_

He feels a fist connect with his face, and Josh tenses up.

This is it. This is where he has to choose. To be strong.

Josh feels his body wanting to fight back. Somewhere, he knows he could take back his position. He could win.

But with every last ounce of hope, with all the trust and the love and whatever the hell else he can find, Josh forces himself to relax. To stop fighting.

His body disagrees.

Josh begins shaking, slow at first but unstoppable. The Wendigo is trying to fight. It's filling him with adrenaline, with fight or flight--but Josh shuts his eyes.

He can feel Mike's gaze on him, and the shame almost makes him give in.

But he doesn't. Above him, miraculously, Mike's hold _softens._ And Josh stops.

And just like that--it's over.

". . . Jesus fuckin' Christ Josh. Jesus . . ."

Mike is staring at him, but before Josh can meet his gaze, his head drops. He looks around at nothing, expression frozen in disbelief.

Josh takes the opportunity to look down as well, only to see the blood dripping from Mike's upper stomach.

He wishes he can speak.

He wants to tell him to kill him. To kick him out. To never let him back.

He closes his eyes, and the last ounce of hunger melts into his chest in shame.

He can't bring himself to open his eyes again.

"Josh."

"Hey. Josh."

. . .

"Josh, for the love of God, look at me."

Josh does as told, his eyes blurred by tears.

Mike is above him still, holding his stomach. His hands are off of Josh, but his eyes are trained on him. His lips are parted, his brows raised and pushed together in thought. He looks . . .

_Oh, God._

Josh's eyes slowly, very slowly move down from Mike's eyes to his chest, past his stomach.

Josh arches his back, just a bit.

And there it is.

He nearly chokes on a laugh, so out of place amidst his tears.

But he can't help it when he laughs again. And then again. And then he's losing breath, his body rocking against Mike's as he shakes silently, unable to breathe.

_Fucking fuck. Who would've known. Oh sweet Jesus, what is happening . . ._

Mike flushes and tries to flee the scene, but Josh grabs hold of his arm, still laughing but smiling wider than he has in days.

Mike can't help that he stays.

He can't help that he pushes Josh gently down into his pillows.

And naturally, he stays above him, straddling him despite the weight in his star wars pajama pants.

Why wouldn't he? Josh was dangerous to anybody and everybody right now. Who knows what would happen if Mike let him go?

But Josh doesn't seem to be on the same page. He's confused as to why Mike is still near him at all, after what he'd just done to him. Part of Josh wishes Mike would leave, so he could stir in his own self hatred and disgust. But the other part of him can't help but focus on the fact that Mike is above him, staring at him, very obviously aroused.

They make eye contact, and Josh searches his eyes for those same thoughts that cloud his head every day and every night. Those thoughts of fear, and hatred, and pain. But they're nowhere to be found. Only--

Josh draws in a quick, startled breath as Mike's lips attach to his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Pt. 2? 👀


End file.
